Janurary 4th, 2012
New
year….Day 3. I haven’t buried any past securities as I thought I had ending
2011. I have shed tears…unlike the clear declaration to myself made mere moments
before midnight. I am 23: a twenty three year old who still feels like she
should be well on her way to a Doctorate degree in Physical Therapy. However, I
am not in school and its killing me the application processes. Throwing
non-refundable money away like its water and man does this river flow.
However, this mid-morning writing session has been promoted
by yet again…rock bottom: once again reminding me that the greatest words come
together in shear moments of despair.
This comes mere moments after falling to my knees and asking
MY GOD to forgive me. Yet again must he forgive me for turning my back on him;
for my selfish pride; for my will of wanting to be in control.
Through my fire tears I scream out “Father, Oh Father…I AM
SORRY.” In the first moments it all that can be mustered up. I continue on “Father,
Why must I constantly…” a laundry list of things come flooding from my lips.
Closely followed by the burning tears. As, I recollect myself I feel a peace
and that’s when the final lines come out. “Father, I love you…I love you.” It’s
that peace I am sure many believers find when he tells you that remember things
come together in his time.
Although, I not only said things to my Heavenly father. I
wrote to two important women and talked to a friend who has been way more valuable
to me than I have to him. It’s in these darkest moments when I realize I have
always been so blessed. Even in the silence of my screams they have been there.
People have been there to hold my hand, lift my chin, wipe those fiery tears.
What have I done?
I swear it is this question that brings me the upmost frustration.
For I have done so much yet so little. I have inspired some but not many. I
have graciously given but not to all. I have loaned an ear but given my mouth
in the process.
At 23 I should be writing about budding romance. I guess in
my fictitious stories I create those because I do not understand how to make
them work in said reality. I should be doing a lot of other things but this is
life and mine doesn’t work like it should at times.
What do I want to do?
So much, I want to do so much in this life. I want to
inspire. I have four little people that I want to inspire. They are my nieces
and nephews and although I only see three regularly I want them all to know
that they can do it. I want to inspire others who are like me. Who can’t seem
to understand why their life revolves around stumbling and triumph and then
triumph and rock bottom. I want to be some voice. I talk a lot but for what?
For pleasure mostly but I want to stand up and be a voice for change. Changing
the world…I suppose this innate want is a derived from years of community
service but it is a must happen want. I want to work to give people mobility
and comfortably back into their daily lives.I want to be one small step in a recovery process. I want them to feel like I cared. I also want to know that my writing
means something. I want to know why I have been so eloquently given such a
beautiful gift. beyond writing I want to climb mountains and explore caves. I want to be able
to tell people of said adventures.
I want to Love. Love without being scared,
love wholeheartedly. I want a love that I can dance with, sing with, cook with.
A love who will teach me how to fix cars, to be a better marksmen, to remind me
of the Lord most of all, I want a love that can withstand all things with the
help of the Lord.
It 2:13 am. This is me. The girl I hide because she is weak.
The girl whose ambition some might say are too high, a girl who dreams even in the
daylight. This is a girl who doesn’t understand her own story but can create
multiple plot lines for her characters. This is the girl I mask. For fear of the
world walking away and continuing to corrupt her soul. This is the defenseless girl few get to see.
1 comment:
you are invited to follow my blog
Post a Comment